Tag Archives: joan crawford

The first season of the FX bio-series Feud came to a close on April 23, capping off 8 weeks of exploration into the famous rivalry between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. With Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford, Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis, and Catherine Zeta-Jones as Olivia de Havilland, the series had been much anticipated in the classic film blogosphere and we waited on baited breath. Nearly all of us agreed–it had the potential to be either spectacularly good, or monstrously bad.

The evening of the first episode of Feud was an event. Tweets were coming in fast and furious as the episode progressed, with classic film aficionados noting errors as well as praiseworthy moments. Afterward, the reviews came in from fans of Crawford and Davis…and they were mixed. Several of my friends, classic film aficionados with expert knowledge on Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, loved it. Jessica Lange’s Joan Crawford, they said, was flawless. Susan Sarandon found the movements of Bette Davis, a very difficult thing to do. Others found it disrespectful and campy with trite dialogue, featuring such an inaccurate depiction of Olivia de Havilland that it was difficult to see much else.

Catherine Zeta-Jones as Olivia de Havilland.

I have had opinions about Feud from the start, but intentionally held off on expressing them here, because I wanted to wait for the end of the season. But now I feel that I can accurately describe my feelings on the subject.

To understand the context for Feud, it is necessary to understand the context of Hollywood during the studio era. On the set, friendships were not encouraged. Actors were to come to the set to work, and not to socialize with other actors. Studios would manufacture competition in order to make the actors work harder, which frequently led to feelings of isolation and loneliness among those working under the studio system. Given the studio-sanctioned psychological pressure and forced allegiance to the studio at which you were under contract, there was little time to branch out. If you had any time to socialize, it was almost exclusively with people at your own studio. With Bette Davis at Warner Bros. and Joan Crawford at MGM, a feud, as it were, was not present in those early days, nor was a friendship. Bette Davis said it best in her interview with Dick Cavett:

“It really depends on whom you work with. And, you see, we don’t work together very often. For instance, the group of people I knew the most were the people I worked with at Warner’s all those 18 years. And if I had been at Metro, I probably would have known those people much more, because they all knew each other. I don’t think it’s by any intent or jealousy or not wanting to know each other, I think all of those people you’re talking about were very occupied all those many, many years. And it does not leave much time, really, to have a lot of friends.”

Whatever animosity was cultivated later, culminating in the (admittedly fascinating) 1963 Oscars ceremony, was captured and played up in a press that feeds on scandal. Classic Hollywood feuds have long been fodder for magazines, tabloids, and newspaper gossip columns. Scandal sells, and publications have historically stopped at nothing to sell a scandal. But far too often, the feuds are either blown out of proportion or falsified altogether, and lives have been deeply affected by the practice of creating stories out of the lives of real people for the purposes of selling them. The rivalry between Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine is a prime example. The sisters, while always rivals to some extent, had their relationship exposed, magnified, and milked for all its worth for the scandal-hungry press. The media coverage of their sibling troubles ultimately became a self-fulfilling prophecy–the sisters’ ups and downs became more frequent, and they stopped speaking altogether in the late 1970s.

Hollywood fights continue to make for good television and high ratings, so it didn’t come as a surprise to me that FX chose the Crawford/Davis feud for its first season of the show. A common thread among film fans when discussing Feud is praise for the show for bringing classic Hollywood into the mainstream. This is a wonderful objective, but there is a delicacy involved in such a task when the people represented aren’t alive to contribute to it. Respect and dignity for the people’s lives and legacies must be paramount, and my primary concern regarding Feud was the notion of bringing Crawford and Davis into the mainstream by way of a petty catfight.

Bette Davis, at the age of 28, violated her contract with Warner Bros due to unhappiness with the scripts and parts she was offered. She first fled to Canada to avoid legal action, then to Britain to take a 2-film deal. Suing Warner Bros in a British court in order to get out of her contract, Davis challenged Warner Bros on their suspension clauses–that if she didn’t take a film for any reason, she would be put on suspension and have that time added to the end of her contract. Warner Bros lawyers succeeded in making Davis look like a spoiled film star, and she lost the case, with the court ordering her back to Warner Bros to finish her contract. But it was among the first major strikes against the studio system, and Davis’ defiance and bravery in taking on one of the most powerful corporate enterprises in the country case set the stage for Olivia de Havilland to mount a similar case against Warner Bros in 1943–a case she won.

Bette Davis in London in 1936, when she brought suit against Warner Bros.

In 1955, Joan Crawford married Alfred Steele, the CEO of PepsiCo and the man who took Pepsi from a small regional bottling company to monolithic corporate giant. Crawford worked with Steele to bring increased revenue to the company, relocating from Hollywood to New York and traveling all over the country to make personal appearances at Pepsi events. When Steele died in 1959, Crawford discovered that he had left her deeply in debt, except for the Pepsi stock that she had saved, and her image. She was elected to replace Steele’s seat on the Pepsi Board of Directors, and thus became a powerful female executive in the corporate world.

Joan Crawford at a Pepsi board meeting.

While Feud did indeed touch upon these aspects of Crawford and Davis, for which I give the show credit, the focus remained on the fighting. I’m thrilled that mainstream networks are beginning to showcase classic Hollywood and bring it into the mainstream. But especially in our present day, as women find themselves fighting for their rights, I wish the action had centered around their strength, portraying Crawford and Davis as the powerful women they were, resisting the urge for the action to revolve around them as stereotypical, catfighting divas.

The next film in Treasures From the Warner Archive is one to which I’ve been looking forward for some time. Perhaps the most highly respected film of Norma Shearer’s silent career and featuring the screen debut of a future Hollywood legend (more on that later!), it is a hallmark of the early MGM period and a shining example of the beautiful and complex character-driven narratives that came out of the silent era. The film is Lady of the Night, and it’s a real crowd pleaser.

A father is sentenced to 20 years in prison by a judge who has a daughter around the same age. Leaving the courthouse, he sees the judge cuddling with his daughter. “Pretty soft for your kid, but what about mine?” he cries, as he is carted off to jail.

Eighteen years pass, and both daughters are graduating from school–Florence, the judge’s daughter (Norma Shearer) from a select school for young women, and the convict’s daughter Molly (also Norma Shearer) from a reform school. The stark contrast between the lives of the two girls is seen right away–Florence’s world is photographed in a red tint, and her school is surrounded by flowers and trees, her friends smiling and skipping down the path following their graduation. Molly’s world, on the other hand, is photographed in stark black and white, and her school is nothing but a block of cement. She is dressed in a drab black dress, with a simple hat and no makeup. Molly’s world is a grim one, and with nowhere to go and nothing to do, she turns to taxi dancing to earn a living. At the club where she works, Molly is assaulted by a stranger and resists with all her might–kicking, hitting, and biting him. A man by the name of David Page helps wrench the man off of Molly, and to thank him for his kindness, Molly accepts a dance with him much to the chagrin of her boyfriend, Chunky (George K. Arthur). Soon, Molly begins to fall in love with David but David doesn’t see her as a romantic partner, only a good friend. David, an inventor, has invented a device that can crack safes, and Molly advises him not to give his invention to crooks, despite the high price they might pay. “Don’t go crooked, it don’t pay,” she says, drawing on her own experience growing up fatherless. She tells him to sell his idea to a bank, who will use it to keep thieves out.

Molly.

The next day, David goes to the board of a bank to pitch his idea. The meeting was held at board member Judge Banning’s house, and on his way, he bumps into Florence. The two lock eyes, and Florence also begins to fall in love with Dave. This time, it is mutual and they begin dating. One day David takes Florence to his studio when Molly walks in, unaware that he wasn’t alone. She and Florence meet, and after Molly walks out, she says to David “She loves you, David, I can see it in her eyes.” She follows shortly after Molly and finds her sitting in Florence’s carriage. Molly implores Florence to marry David and make him happy. Florence expresses concern for Molly, and when Molly says she can be happy with her own boyfriend, Chunky, the two hug. All ends well with a tinge of bittersweetness at what could have been–with Florence marrying David and Molly marrying Chunky.

It is in the carriage scene that we see the very, very brief screen debut of an actress who would become an immortal Hollywood star. A young actress by the name of Lucille LeSueur had recently come to Hollywood and was being tested out in bit parts. In this role, she plays Norma Shearer’s double for the hugging shot. Within 2 years she would hit it big, and under the name of Joan Crawford, she would become perhaps one of the most important and influential stars of Hollywood’s Golden Age.

Norma Shearer, on the left, with Joan Crawford acting as Molly’s double on the right.

The significance of Joan Crawford’s screen debut against Norma Shearer is lost on very few fans who are familiar with the backstory of classic Hollywood. Joan Crawford’s career skyrocketed very quickly, and by the early 1930s she was one of the reigning queens of the MGM lot. Norma Shearer, always a huge star in her own right, married MGM production chief Irving Thalberg in 1927, becoming not only one of MGM’s biggest assets financially but also gaining an influence and control within the studio that was hard to shake. Joan Crawford and Norma Shearer became bitter rivals at MGM in the 1930s, with both asserting their power to its full extent. Because of her political influence within the studio, however, Norma usually won out, prompting Joan to quip “How can I compete with Norma when she’s sleeping with the boss?” They later appeared in 1939’s The Women playing competitors for a man’s affections–not far from their real life situation.

At its core, the story of Lady of the Night has a complexity that is quite thought-provoking. Much of it, in my analysis, has to do with the fact that Norma Shearer plays the dual role of a judge’s daughter and a convict’s daughter. This prompts the audience to rethink any prejudices they may have had coming in regarding “the girl from the wrong side of the tracks,” and instead judge the characters by their internal qualities. In addition, this dual role shows us the remarkable range of Norma Shearer’s acting abilities. Shearer was one of the rare performers in Hollywood who successfully made the transition from silent film to sound, and 5 years before her Oscar-winning turn in the sound film The Divorcee, Shearer was proving that she had the versatility of the best in the business. As Molly, she is hardened and rough but with a heart of gold–and as Florence, she is soft and demure. The ability to be able to switch from character to character with such aplomb and so quickly is a gift rare indeed.

If you would like to watch Lady of the Night, click here. It is worth watching for the tremendous performance of Norma Shearer, and for the place it has in the silent film pantheon.

William Haines and Jimmy Shields with Jean Harlow, William Powell, and friends.

In 1933, a young and successful actor lost his job in Hollywood. His name had been featured in many wildly popular hits in the 1920s, and his appeal was so great that he had been one of the lucky ones to make the transition to sound. The public loved him, and his contemporaries loved him. He was a huge moneymaker at the studio. So what could have prompted Louis B. Mayer to let him go so abruptly?

Louis B. Mayer called William Haines into his office one day in 1933, to deliver him an ultimatum. He had been seen with a man, and to quiet rumors about his sexuality, Mayer wanted Haines to enter into a “lavender marriage” that would save the studio from public scandal. If he did not, Mayer would have to let him go. Haines looked Mayer straight in the eye and stated “But I am already married.” He was referring to his relationship of 7 years with his partner, a man named Jimmy Shields.

Gay classic Hollywood is a topic that is little discussed in mainstream circles, and its neglect in general discourse has led to surprise from an unaware public when they hear of the gay community’s thriving existence in the Golden Age of Hollywood. The beautiful 1995 documentary The Celluloid Closet works to ease that surprise and clarify misunderstandings, and it has become essential viewing for anyone interested in the inner workings of Hollywood. But for many, the vibrant gay community of classic Hollywood remains an enigma, and many of the stars who were part of that community have sadly disappeared into obscurity.

For William Haines, the decision to allow his career to lapse was an easy one.

Born in Staunton, VA, Haines became enamored with the movies at a young age. After winning the “New Faces of 1922” contest, he traveled to Hollywood to begin his movie career, which took off the following year with his first film Three Wise Fools at Goldwyn Pictures (a studio that would merge with Metro in 1924 to become Metro Goldwyn Mayer). The studio was impressed with him, and began building him as a star. By 1926 he was an established name, and his role in Brown of Harvard (1926) cemented his onscreen persona as a young man “too big for his britches” that ultimately comes around.

On a publicity trip to New York during the same year, Haines met Jimmy Shields for the first time. It is unclear exactly how they met, but scholars believe that Jimmy may have been down on his luck, working as a prostitute on the streets of New York. Haines picked him up, telling him that he would bring Jimmy out to Hollywood to work as an extra, and soon they fell in love and were living together as a couple.

With Joan Crawford and her husband, Al Steele.

Haines and Shields were very well-liked in Hollywood, counting Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Marion Davies, and Gloria Swanson as close friends. They were invited to all the parties around town, treated just as any other couple would be, with no attention to their sexuality.

Haines, with his melodic and pleasing voice, made an easy transition to sound. The public still flocked to his pictures. But the country remained very religious and intolerant of “alternative lifestyles,” and Louis B. Mayer knew this. If MGM were to keep William Haines on and the public got a hold of the fact that he was in a long-term, committed relationship with a man, it could spell ruin for the studio. By this time, Haines and Shields were inseparable. They were married in everything but name, and Haines refused to give Jimmy up for the sake of his career. So he opted to be fired, and his film career was over.

This could have easily meant financial and emotional disaster for Haines and Shields. But drawing on the huge affection that their Hollywood friends felt for them, they decided to go into business together and open William Haines Designs, an interior decorating company that became very successful. They gave free decorating advice to their friends, and many became loyal clients. Joan Crawford, unhappy with the dark look of her home, hired her good friends to do a complete overhaul and transform it into a softer and more sophisticated style. Crawford was one of Haines and Shields’ oldest and dearest friends, and she called their relationship “the happiest marriage in Hollywood.”

Joan Crawford in the home designed by William Haines and Jimmy Shields.

In 1936, Haines and Shields were staying at their beach home in Manhattan when they were accosted, dragged outside and beaten by 100 members of the Ku Klux Klan, after a neighbor accused the two of propositioning her son. The accusations were wildly unfounded, and the scandal infuriated those who knew the couple well. Marion Davies, another very close friend, pleaded with her companion William Randolph Hearst to use his influence to make sure the neighbor was prosecuted and punished for what she had said about Haines and Shields. But ultimately, Haines and Shields did not press charges, and they were cleared of all wrongdoing due to lack of evidence against them.

The two continued their design business until the early 1970s. Haines’ death from lung cancer came shortly thereafter, in 1973, and after 47 years of companionship, Jimmy Shields could not go on. He slipped into Haines’ pajamas, took a bottle of pills, and wrote a note:

Goodbye to all of you who have tried so hard to comfort me in my loss of William Haines, whom I have been with since 1926. I now find it impossible to go it alone, I am much too lonely.

They are buried next to each other at Woodlawn Cemetery in Santa Monica.

A true Hollywood love story.

If you haven’t seen The Celluloid Closet, I would highly recommend it. It is available on Netflix, and it is a loving and informative tribute to a part of Hollywood history that is sadly and unfairly overlooked.

When one thinks of classic Hollywood glamour photography, there are a select few names that come to mind immediately. George Hurrell and Clarence Sinclair Bull are two of the most recognizable photographers of the era, and their work stands out as an exquisite capturing of what classic Hollywood means. But there is a name that is often egregiously overlooked, one that deserves to stand on equal footing with the immortal Hurrell and Bull–and that is Ruth Harriet Louise, MGM studio photographer from 1925-1930 and the first major female photographer in Hollywood.

Though her Hollywood career lasted only 5 years, Louise’s photographic technique set the stage for what Hurrell would make famous–and indeed, many of her photographs have the angelic, ethereal quality that is the hallmark of Hurrell. Others, however, are sweetly playful, capturing the essence of her subjects in diverse and versatile ways.

Greta Garbo, by Ruth Harriet Louise.

Joan Crawford, 1928.

Born Ruth Goldstein, a rabbi’s daughter, in 1903, she began taking photographs as a child and was soon spotted by New York photographer Nickolas Muray for whom she began an apprenticeship. At age 22, she moved to Los Angeles to live with her brother (Mark Sandrich, future director of several Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies) and opened up a portrait studio of her own near Hollywood and Vine. But shortly thereafter, her work was spotted by Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM Studios in Culver City, who asked her to come work as a professional portrait photographer at MGM, where she became an integral part of the photography department and one of the most sought-after photographers on the lot.

Marion Davies, 1927.

In an era when bonds between a star and a photographer were cherished, Louise thrived as the favored photographer of many of the MGM stars. She got a great deal of work from stars who specifically requested her–stars like Joan Crawford, Marion Davies, Buster Keaton, and Greta Garbo–and her own star in the photographic world shone brightly for the 5 years she was on the MGM lot.

Hollywood at this time was very much controlled by male talent behind the scenes. Excepting a handful of extremely talented women–such as Louise and directors Dorothy Arzner and Lois Weber–Hollywood history in the 1920s was dominated by men. In an industry that valued women primarily as objects, working in what was considered a “man’s role” was fickle. It was in this vein that in 1930, when Ruth Harriet Louise’s contract at MGM expired, it was not renewed. Louis B. Mayer cited the fact that Norma Shearer, the top star at the time, preferred the work of George Hurrell, who had also been hired at MGM and subsequently became the head of the department.

Retirement was, however, already on the horizon for Louise. She married director Leigh Jason shortly thereafter, and the couple had two children. When they tried for a third in 1940, it was disastrous–the labor came too fast and too soon, and the hospital was helpless. The baby died…and Louise died of complications. A sad and sudden end to a remarkable short life.

Ruth Harriet Louise’s photographic legacy lives on in her magnificent portraits of some of the most iconic early MGM stars. Here are a few of my favorite portraits of hers.

Glamor, fashion, and beautifully seductive images are hallmarks of George Hurrell’s unmistakable photographic style. The preferred photographer of many classic Hollywood stars, he became indelibly associated with the Golden Age of Hollywood, and one of the most famous names in portrait photography.

Jean Harlow as photographed by Hurrell. As seen in GEORGE HURRELL’S HOLLYWOOD.

Never has Hurrell been more aptly celebrated than in Mark Vieira’s big and beautiful new coffee table book George Hurrell’s Hollywood (published by Running Press Books), that chronicles Hurrell’s life and work, his relationship to his photographic subjects, and his growth as a photographer over the course of his monumentally lengthy career. A detailed biography of Hurrell is accentuated by hundreds of stunning photographs, ranging from Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford all the way to Sharon Stone and Michael Douglas.

Carole Lombard, as photographed by Hurrell. Seen in GEORGE HURRELL’S HOLLYWOOD.

Vieira was a longtime friend of Hurrell’s, and draws on exclusive archival research, interviews, and diaries to create a portrait of the artist never before seen in any book. He details Hurrell’s rise to fame, his flourishing career in Hollywood’s Golden Age, and ultimately his perseverance when times got extremely hard due to scandal and corruption from the underworld of the art collectors’ community.

The book is also a treasure trove for lovers of old Hollywood gossip, providing the reader with information about the mystery of Greta Garbo that existed offscreen as well as on (Vieira relates an anecdote on the unusual way in which Hurrell finally succeeded in getting Garbo to smile for a picture), the eccentricities of Marlene Dietrich, and the resistance of Olivia de Havilland to Hurrell’s unorthodox methods of getting a shot. One of my favorite parts of the book is an examination of how Hurrell airbrushed his subjects. A famous Hurrell photograph of Joan Crawford, glamorous, sexy, and a true movie star, is shown alongside its original negative–and we see Crawford as the freckle-faced, normal woman she was when she came into Hurrell’s studio. The difference between the two photographs is astounding, and shows what Hurrell was capable of long before the days of digital airbrushing and Photoshop.

Hurrell expanded his horizons a bit during the second half of his career, photographing such musical notables as Diana Ross, David Bowie, and Natalie Cole (Hurrell’s photograph of Cole appeared on the cover of her album Unforgettable…With Love). Sharon Stone, his last photographic subject, provides the foreword to this book and an alluring photograph of Stone graces the first page of text.

Hurrell’s photograph of Sharon Stone that appears alongside the foreword of GEORGE HURRELL’S HOLLYWOOD.

Click here to order your copy of the book. George Hurrell’s Hollywood is a must-have for anyone interested in classic Hollywood, photography, the art world, or simply the life of a fascinating personality whose career survived multiple setbacks and difficulties. A truly loving and fitting portrait to a photographic genius, featuring 420 breathtaking images that testify to the man and his art.

Take a seat and get ready to see some sparring, ladies and gentlemen, because on December 22 for the third year in a row, Backlots will be hosting the Dueling Divas Blogathon! This blogathon has proven to be lots of fun in the past, and always elicits very interesting entries. I look forward to what’s to come this year!

On December 22, write about your favorite dueling divas. Your piece can be on one of those legendary offscreen duels (ex. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford) or an onscreen one (ex. Eve Harrington and Margo Channing). You can even write about an actress (or actor, we’re gender-neutral here at Backlots!) who played a dual role in a classic film if you would like–such as Olivia de Havilland in The Dark Mirror or Hayley Mills in The Parent Trap. We don’t often get many entries of this type, but it’s there if you want it!

Olivia de Havilland in THE DARK MIRROR.

You don’t have to just focus on two people. You can talk about the various duels a single actor had (good heavens, Bette Davis’ duels alone could fill a book!) or duels within a group. Last year I wrote about the divas in The Women, which was a lot of fun.

So to sum up, here are the guidelines on who to write about:

Those who had a rivalry in real life, either over a particular film role or over a personality clash, ie Bette Davis and Joan Crawford

Those who had a rivalry on the screen, ie Mildred and Veda from Mildred Pierce

Any dual role played by an actor or actress in a classic film, ie Hayley Mills in The Parent Trap.

Please do try to stay on track with the theme! Since this is an open-ended blogathon with a lot of choices, it’s easy to get carried away. But if you just refer to the guidelines above, you’ll be good to go.

Comment on this post with your diva choices and I will add you to the list. So far we have:

Backlots is devoted to honoring and celebrating all aspects of classic film and is written by Lara Gabrielle, a California-based classic film writer and historian. Lara is currently working on a full-length biography of Marion Davies, the first since 1972.

Here you will find pieces on frequently seen classics and some lesser-known gems, as well as book reviews, festival coverage, and pieces on the history, theory and culture of film as it relates to the study of classic cinema.
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AFFILIATIONS & AWARDS

2019 CMBA Award for Best Profile of Classic Movie Performer or Filmmaker--"The Activism of Myrna Loy"

Winner of the 2018 CiMBA Award for Best Classic Movie Series, BACKLOTS AT THE COURTHOUSE: OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND VS. FX

Winner of the 2014 CiMBA Award for Best Profile of a Classic Movie Performer or Filmmaker: A Q&A WITH JOAN FONTAINE IN HONOR OF HER 96TH BIRTHDAY

Winner of the 2011 CiMBA Award for Best Classic Movie Discussion, THE FINAL SCENE OF THE HEIRESS

I am honored to be a judge of the Animal Film Festival in Grass Valley, CA.

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